Tell Me I Was Dreaming
by SkeeterJoe
Summary: Inspired by the song by Travis Tritt.


This story is based on the song Tell Me I Was Dreaming by Travis Tritt. When I heard it the other day, I knew I had to write this story.

Blood. There was blood everywhere. The thick crimson red, sticky stuff covered the sheets, the bed, and was lying in spots on the floor.

He'd been in many gunfights. He'd seen his friends die of gunshot wounds. But never had he'd seen that much blood. How could one little woman produce that much blood?

She was so small on their large bed. Her skin that was once tanned by the sun was whiter than the sheets she was laying on. Her lips were blue. Her breaths were labored and shallow, as if every breath she took required more energy than she had.

When the first scream of pain came out of her mouth, he'd gone into panic mode. Normally he was calm, cool, collected. But this time was different. He couldn't take away or shield her from the pain.

The doctor was there in no time. He sat by her side, holding her, wiping her brow, but there was still nothing he could do. Something was wrong. Profoundly wrong. He could see it on the doctor's face and in his furrowed, concentrated brow.

Whispers were passed among the others in the room, but nothing was said to him. A minute later he was being dragged out of the room by his brother. He tried to fight his brother off of him, but he lost in the end. He was practically dragged out of the room, screams of pain following him, echoing in his ears.

For twenty minutes he paced the floor of the porch, his brother standing sentry at the front door. All he could hear was the screams of pain. No one was telling him anything. He had to get away. The screams echoed in his mind, he couldn't escape them. His heart was pounding, sound of blood rushing in his ears. He couldn't get a decent breath, the shirt too tight around his throat. The air was thick and he couldn't breathe. He had to get away from this.

He ran to the barn, without bothering to saddle the horse, he jumped onto the horse and rode out of the yard. The devil himself could have been chasing him with as fast as he rode out.

He lost himself in the pounding of the hooves and the steady, rocking rhythm. Tears clouded his eyes, so he gave the horse its head and allowed the animal to go wherever it wished. He prayed as hard and fast as he riding.

Two hours later, his brother found him, still on his horse, staring blindly across the plains. He obediently and wordlessly followed his brother back to the house, not seeing. The look on his brother's face said it all.

The doctor met him at the door. "I'm sorry," was all the doctor could say.

He pushed the man out of the way, running into the bedroom. That's when he saw her. Her form wilted and drained of life on the bed. He cried out in anguish, kicking everyone out, slamming the door shut. He went to the bed and held her close to him.

He sleepwalked through the next few days. Decisions were made without his help. He didn't care. She was gone. He didn't want to be around either. Why her? Why not him? How come he was able to keep walking around, living his life, if that's what he was doing was called.

He saw the casket being lowered into the ground. He never heard the words the preacher said, never saw the mourners. Just her. The sound of the dirt dropping into the hold, on the casket was a loud _thud_ in his ears.

He felt like he was pushed, but he jumped. He was falling into the deep, dark hole.

Hands were on him. Grabbing, shaking him.

XXXXX

Buck woke up with a start. Jane was leaning over him, hands on his shoulders, concern in her eyes. JANE! He was dead. He knew it. Relief flooded him. He could now be with her. He didn't have to live in a world without her. He could now be there with her forever again. Never alone.

"Buck, are you okay?" Jane asked concerned. He just stared at her mesmerized. Her long brown hair was tousled, her chocolate brown eyes so deep you could get lost in them.

"Buck, you were having a nightmare. Are you okay?" Jane asked again.

Still not finding his voice, Buck did the only thing he could think of. He kissed his lovely wife. He didn't take it slow. He kissed her hard, fierce. Like their lives depended on it.

Jane wasn't sure what the dream was about, but she wasn't going to complain. Buck hadn't kissed her this way in a long time. She felt his hands roam her body. Jane moaned in pleasure and Buck slipped his tongue into her mouth, mating with hers.

Buck pushed Jane back onto the bed. He had to have her. All the desire he'd ever known didn't compare to the way he felt at that moment.

Jane knew where Buck was going. But she couldn't. Not yet. She didn't want to upset him. But she couldn't make love to him. It was too soon. She broke away from the kiss and said the only thing she could think of.

"Buck, I don't want to wake the baby."

Buck stopped short at that statement. Baby? His brain slowly cleared from the haze of the dream, the kiss and his passion.

It was just a dream. It was all coming back to him now. Jane had gone into labor, and was having trouble. The baby was stuck, which worried the doctor, worrying Buck even more. Buck was kicked out of the room so Doc Barns could help Jane and the baby.

When Buck had returned, she was lying in bed nursing their newborn daughter. Jane had lost quite a bit of blood, but Doc said she was strong and would be fine.

Buck jumped out of the bed and made his way to the cradle at the foot of the bed. The baby was quietly sleeping, wrapped in flannel blanket. Buck slowly picked the baby up and walked back to the bed sitting next to his wife.

Buck held their daughter with his left arm, while he slipped his right around Jane's waist. Jane leaned onto Buck's shoulder.

Buck held the two most important people in his life. They were safe. They were healthy. He held his girls tighter as he thanked the spirits that it had only been a nightmare.

XXXXX

**I've wanted to write a story about the birth of Buck and Jane's baby, but wasn't sure how to go about it. When I heard this song the other day, I knew. I'm sorry to put you all through the first half, but it's what I had to write. **

**Thank you to Hortense for reading over this for me. Thank you to Beulah for help with the graphics. Thanks to the ladies at the Plus for their continued support. Also, thank you to you, the readers.**

**Always,**

**S**


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